


Trembling

by Forthelore



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Shaky Stephen Strange, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is a good father figure, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forthelore/pseuds/Forthelore
Summary: The fracture wasn’t the worst that Stephen had seen; a child in a car accident some fifteen years ago had definitely been worse off. But he was working on someone he had known as an acquaintance. If he was still a registered surgeon, this would be completely against the ethical rules.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	Trembling

Shaky Hands  
October 1st 

Stephen Strange could spot a well manicured and steady hand from a mile away. It was like a sixth sense that had imbued itself into his brain the day he entered medical school. The intuition only strengthened when the teachers praised him for his own steadiness. 

“A good doctor is always steady.” 

His teacher had harped on the idea until the man was seeing it in his dreams. It would float through his frontal lobe in bubble letters and settle just above his ear—temporal lobe—where it ate itself into his long term memory. 

When he entered his first residency, the doctor on duty made note of how confident his hand movements had been. At first, Stephen had simply scoffed, over confident in his own handiwork. And why wouldn’t he be? He was working under one of the world's most renowned surgeons. The waiting list for residency under his studious gaze had a three year wait list. Stephen had simply skipped over it once the man caught him working on a cadaver during a lab late one night.

So when Stephen was faced with the project of performing surgery on a teenager under the watchful gaze of both Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, Stephen could not fathom why his hands were trembling. He had worked on children in the past—removed tumors, stopped brain hemorrhaging, removed parts of the brain that had caused personality issues. And he had done it all under the attentive gaze of the worlds best surgeons, and parents, and students that he had taken under his wing during the hospital’s residency program. 

“Shit,” Tony whispered, his fingers never leaving the wrist of Queen’s very own spider themed vigilante. “His pulse is picking up,” A frown creased the inventors forehead as he threw a worried glance to his partner in crime. 

“I can’t give him any more anesthetic, Tony.” Bruce muttered worriedly watching the teenagers oxygen intake. Stephen wouldn’t say it, but he was in agreement with Bruce. The teenager was already under enough diazepam to knock down the great Captain America. And yet the kid’s pulse was spiking in tandem with pain which he shouldn’t be able to feel. At this point, Stephen was beginning to wonder if he were dealing with a case of anesthesia awareness. 

It was only a disaster that Stephen had ever read about. His techs and nurses, when he was in practice, always made sure that the patient was under. They would check for pupil activity, pulse and heart rate, and someone was always on watch for any sign of a twitch or movement that could alert them to a patient's discomfort. In the tower, Stephen didn’t have that luxury.

“And if he wakes up?” Tony was desperate. Stephen could understand that to a degree. His kid had taken a hit by some goon dressed as an octopus. The metal on the end of the tentacle had effectively crushed a side of the kid’s skull; causing his brain to begin swelling. Tony had barely made it in time for the kid to be rescued. 

“Then we’ll deal with it when and if it happens.” Stephen sighed as he continued his process of removing small parts of the boy’s skull. He would wait for the swelling to go down, and then replace what he removed with a metal plate. “For now, please remain silent. I need to concentrate.” The surgeon sighed leaning in closer to the open incision. 

The fracture wasn’t the worst that Stephen had seen; a child in a car accident some fifteen years ago had definitely been worse off. But he was working on someone he had known as an acquaintance. If he was still a registered surgeon, this would be completely against the ethical rules.

So it was a good thing that he wasn’t. 

“Strange, I swear,” Tony hissed protectively. Stephen wondered momentarily if the media ever saw this side of the man. Did anyone else know that Tony had the kid’s entire instagram feed saved in a file on his desktop? Did Pepper have any idea that the man she was going to marry already had someone else he was deeply devoted to? Why did Tony keep this side of himself a secret? 

“Shut it,” Stephen replied shaking his head a bit in order to return his focus to the task at hand. He adjusted his grip on his forceps and moved the skin a little more from the injury. He could see just a few more pieces of the kid’s skull still pushing against his brain. He would more than likely be severely off balance during his healing process—which was going to be shorter than Stephen though. 

“Interesting,” He mumbled staring at the organ before him. The kid was stitching himself back together little by little. 

“What?” Bruce tried to peak over Strange’s shoulder. The natural curiosity in his temperment got the best of him as he finally sidestepped the surgeon to get a view. A white haze had formed over the injured organ, resembling very much the webs that the teenager had swung from on a daily basis. “I thought his webs were chemically engineered.” Bruce’s brow furrows down on his head thoughtfully.

“What?” Tony frowns in his own attempt to glance over the surgery guard. Stephen sighed audibly; announcing his annoyance with the intrusion of personal space. “Don’t make that face, Strange.” Tony hissed shuffling in beside bruce.

“He has his own healing capabilities,” Stephen grunted watching the meshwork before him. “He won’t need a metal plate at this rate. Not if his skull will heal the bone on its own.” 

“Which could be a possibility.” Tony muttered returning to his place beside the spiderling. 

“So we stitch him up,” Bruce pursed his lips glancing at Stephen—asking if he’s correct non-verbally. Stephen simply nods reaching for the suture kit.

“Keep him sedated for the next seventy-two hours,” Stephen glances at his hand and inhales a bit. It was odd being back in this position after so many years off. His hands have stopped shaking now that the danger has passed. Adding a metal plate is a child's work in comparison to removing large chunks of bone from the soft tissue without doing further damage. He wouldn’t have to think twice about what he was doing; wouldn’t have to worry about a slip up of his hand causing personality changes or damage, or worse--death. 

“Seventy--” Tony turned on the man only to pause with a frown. The surgeon had finished sewing the boy up and simply disappeared. “God damnit!” Tony hissed grasping for his kid’s hand one more time. His eyes closed anxiously as he held the limp fingers against his forehead and willed his own hands to stop trembling. He had to remind himself several times over that at least the kid was alive.


End file.
